


Start New Life

by BowAndDagger



Series: The Many Lives of Albion [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: (Artificial) Life After Death, Amnesia, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Human to Non-Human, Kinda, Naming Oneself, Rebirth, References to The Gamer (Manhwa), References to the Arthurian Mythology, Video Game Mechanics, cheating death, new life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 19:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18817885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BowAndDagger/pseuds/BowAndDagger
Summary: Slowly and trying to not move his head as to not induce any unnecessary and painful noise, [Insert name] looks at the trees surrounding him then gaze up at the sun shining through the canopy. A glowing display floats at the edge of his vision.[Insert name]Lv. oOh, right. He remembers now. He died.





	Start New Life

**Author's Note:**

> The very first part of an ongoing project.  
> Enjoy!

 

Sensory overload is the _worst_.

 

This is the first thought to cross **[Insert name]** ’s mind as he wakes up. He rolls to his feet with clumsy movements as his hands clap over his twitching and aching ears. Or as he tries to. His ears are not on each side of his head but higher on top of it and his fingers only brush hair. The slight sound of digits gliding over his locks is enough to almost send him to his knees. It tears through sensitive eardrums like a sharp whistle at close range. It _hurts_!

 

Whimpering, he lets his hands fall down, except that the rustling of his clothes is enough to lance through his brain. A hiss escapes him as he tries not to move and to regulate his breathing. The pain makes him want to gag and he swallows back bile with a grimace. His stomach is empty and gurgling angrily at him. What did he last eat? For that matter, _when_ did he last eat? And where? He cannot remember.

 

Little by little, he calms down and begins to adapt to his new sharp senses enough to register his environment. He is kneeling on grass, sharp nails digging in the wet soil covered with stray bits of moss, twigs and dead leaves still soft. Birds are singing and chirping, his ears detect the soft footfalls of predators and preys alike not far from him and on his far right he can make out the burbling of a stream.

 

When **[Insert name]** opens his eyes, it is with another hiss of pain and much squinting. The world around him is strange, almost lifeless in a way he has never seen before. Everything is painted in shades of greens and browns. The colours, while dull, are sharper than what he remember almost as if they were in relief. And he can see everything. Every nook and cranny of the farthest tree, every bugs and insects coming and going… His eyes track with no difficulty whatsoever the tiny ants in a line transporting their foods. He temps down on his instincts – which want him to pounce and shred and kill at the slightest movement – with a shudder both at the idea of killing in such a way and at the noise moving will cause.

 

Slowly and trying to not move his head as to not induce any unnecessary and painful noise, **[Insert name]** looks at the trees surrounding him then gaze up at the sun shining through the canopy. A glowing display floats at the edge of his vision.

 

**_[Insert name]_ **

**_Lv. o_ **

 

Oh, right. He remembers now. He died.

 

🎮

 

**[Insert name]** has not done much after waking up – besides wandering around to get his bearings and, hopefully, to find signs of civilisation.

 

Despite his new sharp senses – and his new ears had to be on par with some canine or feline breeds to hear so well – he had not heard anything of worth: plenty of chirping and tweeting and some braying from afar from one or two harts-things (which were a bit too big to be normal reality-harts) but no human sounds.

 

His wandering around had brought him to the stream he had first heard when he woke up in this strange forest.

 

That was when he had first seen his appearance. Which, okay, books and movies are lying. Seeing yourself in the water is actually more difficult and blurry than they make it appear like. There had been much squinting and a lot of grimaces involved.

 

He is still as black-haired as he was when he was alive. His skin is still faintly tan from his last vacation to the beach two months ago. All in all, he could still pass off as Human; if one ignored the claws in place of nails, the fangs, the slit pupils set into cat-like golden eyes and, the most striking of all, the big furry ears at the top of his head. **[Insert name]** is rather surprised not to have a tail, to complete the animalistic appearance, but at the same time, he is rather glad he does not have one since he already has a hard time controlling his new instincts without adding a tail to the mix!

 

He had already seen and inspected his new nails during his trek here; hard not to, since when he was finally able to control the overwhelming sensory input, it was to find himself with his claws deep in the ground. Cleaning them of the dirt without scratching himself had been an experience. And he really did not want to know what kind of damage he could do to another creature or person. His ears flatten to his skull at the thought, he realizes. It is unnerving to feel them moving on their own at each noise or strong emotion.

 

He is now alien in his own body and it is a strange concept. His new furry appendages move without his conscious input and he has the strange reflex to still at the slightest noise from a possible prey. He had to restrain himself three time when walking around. It was that or he would have probably found himself up a tree, climbing after a fleeing squirrel.

 

Anyway, there is nothing he can do about if: he chose this. He does have to concede that this situation is not what he had initially chosen, though.

 

He died.

 

He does not remember how, just that it had to have happened, for him to be here in this new body and alive. For some definition for ‘alive’, anyhow. The issue is that he does not recognise either this appearance or his current surroundings.

 

🎮

 

Advancements in technology and medical procedures had allowed the creation of an ‘after-life’ of sorts. People could – if they so choose – be send in their favourite video-games after their death thanks to the Game-Worlds network. The Transfer, as it was called, had become the norm almost everywhere, as it was less expensive than the combined cost of a traditional burial and the loan of a plot of land in a cemetery for a grave. What’s more, it allowed people deceased unexpectedly to say their final goodbyes to their family and friends while living one last adventure, free of any constraints of the real world.

 

**[Insert name]** – or Arthur, as he was called in the living world – remembered the announcement well; how the mass had first thought it was an hoax and then, little by little, the interactions between dead and living players had begun. It had been a success, albeit a controversial one. The only reason the world had not gone to war on the matter, pushed by conflicting beliefs and faiths, was because of the medical nature of it.

 

The process of sending the mind to an artificial world had been created by accident: the technology was being tested as a way to separate the mind from the body as an alternative for anaesthetic: too many people were allergic to morphine or its substitutes. The procedure was approved after several years of testing: both as a way to keep the patient free of pain and occupied during, and after, surgery. The Transfer was discovered half a decade after its approval; when the first patient under the device died. This late discovery was explained by the fact that the device had been expensive at first and not many hospitals had the funds to buy it; and even if the hospitals had it, not many patients chose to use it.

 

To be able to say goodbye, to be able to truly put an end to inheritance disputes by directly asking the person concerned and the fact that the device has proved itself effective at providing the right kind of stimulus to wake up people in comatose state had won over the world. The gamers were particularly excited at the prospect of living a second time in their favourite worlds.

 

So, despite many protests from many different religious leaders and associations, the mass won and the Transfer became a part of humanity’s daily life – or death, depending on the point of view.

Arthur had chosen the Transfer, had it written down in his medical files, had regularly updated his games’ accounts and characters in prevision of his death. He just had not expected to die at twenty-seven.

 

Unexpected death or not, it did not explain his situation. While living he had never created a cat-like character and the forest around him is unfamiliar to him, as is the hart-thing he had encountered. Harts were not supposed to be the size of elephants!

 

At least the game functions seemed fine, if the display hovering at the edge of his vision is any indication. Speaking of…

 

Still kneeling at the edge of the stream, **[Insert name]** straightens up.

 

“Status.”

 

Weird, his voice sounds coarser than what he remembered. Different vocal cords? Huh. He pushes the question at the back of his mind, concentrating on the display before him.

 

There is a little figure, all in bluish-white light, representing himself next to several lines:

 

**[Insert name]**

**Lv. 0**

**HP:** 100/100

**STR:** 0

**VIT:** 0

**DEX:** 0

**INT:** 0

**WIS:** 0

**LUK:** 0

**Points:** 15

**Money:** 0

**STATUS:** Beginner (+25% experience gain up to level 10)

 

“Huh. It looks like a standard RPG game, complete with skill points…the get up is familiar, though. I’ve seen it somewhere, but where…?”

 

Yet, in any other RPG, one starts with creating one’s character, which neither Arthur nor **[Insert name]** has done. Yet, here he is with all of his appearance already chosen and ready to start the second life but for his new name.

 

He taps on the hovering screen and it changes:

 

**Choose name: _**

 

Ah. So he could choose…which may explain why he had not been able to identify as Arthur in his own mind, despite having had the name for twenty-seven plus years. What to choose, though? He had never been good at naming things; he did not think his cat had ever forgiven him for naming her Meow.

 

Should he keep Arthur? It had been his name for a long time and while not particularly attached to it, he had not minded it. The Arthurian legends had been his parents’ go-to night stories when he was a child. “Arthur” had been both his name and the name of his childhood hero.

 

…

 

Nah. This is the beginning of a new life, despite the strange circumstances; his new name has to be different.

 

But nobody said he has to forget everything about his old life. That, and there was no one around to mock him about his choice. And to be completely honest, he had always been partial to another name in the legends.

 

He spells the name, watching as the letters add themselves to the display. He hesitates before he adds a family name with a snicker.

 

**Confirm new name?**

**Albion Pendragon**

**Yes / No**

 

Albion selects **Yes** with a smile. It is a new beginning.

 

🎮

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> (An extract of this, and others, can be found on Tumblr: bow-and-dagger)


End file.
